


The Town

by wheel_pen



Series: Agent and Doctor [12]
Category: The Bourne Legacy (2012), The Town (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noted Boston bank robber James Coughlin has been captured in a desperate shootout with the police and FBI, wounded and confined to a hospital bed with the rest of his gang dead or missing. FBI Agent Frawley has plans to throw the book at the obnoxious Coughlin… but apparently the CIA wants him, too, and they’re even sending their own doctor to take him from the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Town

“This man is in federal custody for multiple bank robberies that resulted in fatalities!” Agent Frawley pointed out angrily.

The dark-skinned, besuited woman before him was not impressed, and neither were her two implacable assistants. “The court order is clear, Agent Frawley,” she replied coolly. “James Coughlin is to be transferred to CIA custody. International terrorism trumps bank robbery.”

The dismissive way she said ‘bank robbery,’ as though it were as petty as shoplifting a pack of gum—not to mention the lives that had been lost while it was committed—made Frawley’s temper flare even more. He spun away with a frustrated snarl.

“You think Coughlin’s a terrorist?” Dino scoffed. “He’s a street rat, he’s never left Boston in his life.”

“Mr. Coughlin has friends overseas,” she replied mysteriously. “Friends who profit from his bank robberies. We’ll be handling it from here.”

Dino shook his head and walked over to the other side of the hospital hallway to join his colleague. “So Coughlin robs banks, sends the money to, what, Al-Qaeda? Irish mobsters?” Frawley muttered, his disbelief obvious.

“Sure as h—l wasn’t goin’ to his apartment,” Dino pointed out dryly.

“This is rotten, this is f-----g rotten,” Frawley declared. “MacRay’s vanished, the others are dead, all we’ve got is the bank manager, and Legal says they don’t think they can pin the whole thing on her. Without Coughlin we might as well just clear the desk and start hunting jaywalkers.”

“Did you call Barnes?” Dino asked.

“Spirit of interagency cooperation,” Frawley mocked in a bitter tone. That’s what his boss had told him when he complained. “Let this Deavere or DeVry or whatever her name is walk all over us.”

“Skerritt says they’re taking _everything_ on him,” Dino went on gloomily. “All the evidence, everything from his apartment, medical records, blood samples. You don’t think he’s some kind of biological weapon carrier, do ya?” he asked worriedly.

Frawley rolled his eyes. “Maybe we can ask his new doctor when he shows,” he suggested sarcastically.

“Uh-oh,” Dino said, nodding down the hall. “Don’t think it’s a he.” A woman with long, dark curly hair and a heart-shaped face strode towards them, a CIA badge hanging around her neck. The long white coat gave her away as a doctor, of course. She nodded crisply to Deavere and started to continue on towards Coughlin’s room.

“Hang on a sec,” Frawley said, intercepting her. “You’re the CIA doctor?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed smartly, continuing to walk. “Got a rash?”

“Coughlin’s not, like, a biological weapon thing, is he?” Dino asked her.

She froze at the door to the guarded room and gave him an alarmed, guilty look. Then her face went back to normal. “Kidding! No.”

Frawley blocked the door. “Look, I’ve hardly let Coughlin out of my sight since we picked him up three days ago,” he told her. “He’s a tough little b-----d.”

“That’s my specialty,” the doctor assured him. “You can open the door for me, though.” Frawley sighed and let her pass.

Coughlin looked up with interest as they entered and Frawley nodded at the two guards watching him to leave. They looked more than a little relieved, so he suspected the man had been up to his usual obnoxious taunts again. The woman pulled his chart off the end of the bed and began studying it intently.

“Hey, hey, you my new doctor?” he asked with considerable amusement.

“Yes,” she replied without looking up.

“I prefer blonds,” he decided.

“How do you know I’m not one?” she shot back flatly, turning a page.

Coughlin laughed unexpectedly at her remark. “Well, I might like you. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“You can call me Dr. Rogers,” she told him.

“Maybe I could think of something less formal,” he suggested lewdly.

“Can it, Coughlin,” Frawley ordered. “Didn’t you look at his records before you got here?” he asked Rogers impatiently.

Abruptly she flipped the file shut. “Sorry, I can only handle one stupid conversation at a time,” she told the agent, and Coughlin hooted.

“Yeah, I like her,” he repeated. “Sure, sit down,” he invited as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out a penlight.

“It’s not a good idea to antagonize the person who controls your pain meds,” she informed him. “Hold still, I’m going to check your eyes to see if you have a concussion.”

Frawley and Dino moved in a little, knowing this procedure had been problematic before. But aside from a little squirming Coughlin behaved himself. “I don’t think I know what ‘antagonize’ means,” he claimed.

“It means, don’t f—k with me,” Rachel translated bluntly. She clicked off the light. “No damage.” She handed him a tissue for his watering eyes.

“He’s sensitive,” Dino taunted, and Coughlin glared and gave him the finger.

“Any headaches, dizziness, nausea, difficulty breathing?” the doctor asked clinically.

“No thanks,” Coughlin replied.

“How’s your leg feel?”

“Well, not so hot,” he admitted, but in a cocky tone. “It got broke in four places. Not sure if they were FBI or police bullets.”

If he had expected her to be impressed with this somehow, he was disappointed. “Your pain meds are set pretty low,” she noted.

“I gotta high pain tolerance,” he bragged. “ _After_ they shot me, I ran three blocks, _and_ jumped a fence.” Frawley rolled his eyes.

“ _That_ didn’t help,” Dr. Rogers pointed out. She frowned as she looked him over and leaned in to examine a bruise behind his ear. “Your chart didn’t say anything about a head injury.”

“Police brutality,” he claimed. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “You smell nice.” Then his eyes popped open. “Ow!” he yowled indignantly, as she removed his hand from her thigh with a grip that involved fingernails. “I don’t like you anymore,” he grumbled. “Aren’t you doctors not supposed to hurt anybody?”

“That’s only on TV,” she claimed briskly, standing. She moved around to the other side of the bed. “I’ll have to check your leg to see if you’re stable enough to be moved,” she explained. “It may hurt a little.”

She started to lift the blanket. “Hang on,” Coughlin protested. “I want some privacy here.” He looked pointedly at Frawley and Dino, who scoffed.

“Privacy? What for?” Dino asked.

“I’m shy,” Coughlin claimed obnoxiously.

“Get used to living with twenty-four hour surveillance,” Frawley denied. Then Rogers started to pull the curtain around the bed. Frawley stopped her. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m giving my patient some privacy while I examine him,” Rogers answered, a hint of challenge in her tone.

“Yeah, it’s, like, doctor-patient confidentiality,” Coughlin babbled.

“Shut it,” she ordered him. “What do you think he’s going to do? Escape through the ventilation duct with a broken leg?”

In general this Rogers seemed able to handle herself with Coughlin, but Frawley still felt letting them out of his sight, even if there was only a thin curtain in between them, was tempting fate. Broken leg or not, Coughlin could still be a threat. “He might try to take you hostage—“ Frawley started to suggest.

From the look on Rogers’s face, he was about to be skewered. “Yes, I guess he could put me in a choke hold,” she began slowly, “and force a couple of orderlies to push his bed… to Mexico.” Coughlin started to chortle and she silenced him with a withering look.

“Fine,” Frawley allowed, stepping back. “You wanna risk it, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Rogers told him, drawing the curtain shut.

“You are so f----n’ whipped, Frawley,” Coughlin mocked from out of sight. Then he started making obscene moaning noises and muttering, “Oh yeah, baby, right there!” Dino and Frawley rolled their eyes in disgust. Then suddenly they heard what sounded like a real gasp of pain from Coughlin, followed by considerable angry swearing. When Rogers yanked the curtain back Coughlin was glaring at her sullenly. Dino and Frawley avoided making eye contact for fear they’d start laughing.

“I warned you it would hurt,” Rogers reminded her patient without sympathy. “You should’ve held still.” She picked up his chart again and made a note on it. “Patient is cleared for transport,” she told Frawley. “Sign here, and here…”

While they took care of the paperwork off to the side, Dino sidled up to the prisoner. “What’s the matter, Coughlin?” he couldn’t resist taunting. “No more smart remarks? Maybe the lady doctor is too much for you to handle.” He glanced over at her by the window. “Almost envy you,” he claimed, “riding around with that fine piece of a-s. But, on a terrorism rap, they’ll probably throw you in a hole and you’ll never be seen again.”

Coughlin looked up at him innocently, _too_ innocently. “Sorry, Dino, what were you sayin’?” he asked. “I got distracted tryin’ to remember how many cops I killed in the shootout. Was it seven or nine? Should we count the ones who’ll be vegetables for the rest of their lives, or—“

It was not Dino’s normal behavior, but it had been a very difficult three days, and he’d just come from talking to a couple of widows and their kids. So he belted him.

“What the f—k?!” Dr. Rogers snapped, racing the few steps across the room to throw Dino away from Coughlin’s bed. Even in her fury she wouldn’t have been very effective if he hadn’t staggered backwards on his own, and been held there by Frawley. “Get him out of here!”

Not that Frawley could really blame his colleague, but J---s, what a way to make a bad situation even worse. “Doctor, we all know this guy”—Coughlin, who smirked at them evilly with a bloody lip—“is an a-shole, so—“

“ _Nobody_ messes with my patients,” Rogers told him in a low, deadly tone. “Get the f—k out.”

“Told you, cops is all b-----ds—“ Coughlin began smugly. Rogers snapped her fingers and pointed at him without looking, and he shut up. Frawley decided discretion was the better part of valor in this case and left with Dino.

From the emergency exit at the hospital, with copious armed guards and rooftop snipers standing by—Frawley kept thinking of the orderlies pushing the hospital bed to Mexico—he watched Coughlin be loaded into an ambulance, attended by Dr. Rogers and driven by CIA personnel. He knew instinctively the man would never stand trial for any of the crimes he’d committed. Which wasn’t to say he would never be punished for them; he tried to take some comfort from that.

Now, to hunt for MacRay.

**

The ambulance doors thumped shut behind Rachel, the latch clicking into place. A moment later the guard climbed into the front cab with the driver and the vehicle began to lumber away from the hospital into the Boston traffic.

Jeremy reached over and took her hand, and when he nodded at her Rachel let out a huge breath, not realizing she’d been holding it. “Oh my G-d, I can’t believe I did that,” she babbled. Then she froze. “Is it okay? Are we done?”

“Yeah, we’re done, Dr. Ward,” Jeremy assured her, still with his blue-collar Boston accent. “You did a good f-----g job.”

She blinked at him. “Then why are you still talking like that?”

“Well, I’m kinda still undercover, until the Supervisor tells me to stand down,” he reminded her, adding, “Sweetheart.”

Rachel choked out a nervous giggle that became several. “Oh G-d, I thought I was gonna blow it when you started making those noises behind the curtain—“

Jeremy smirked. “Well that’s what you were supposed to be doin’,” he claimed lewdly.

“Stop! Stop making jokes, it’s so wrong!” Rachel begged, trying to catch her breath. “All your little comments, and—oh G-d, when I first walked in I couldn’t even look at you, you look like such a hoodlum with that haircut and those tattoos—“

Jeremy frowned a little. “That’s what I’m _supposed_ to look like.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rachel assured him, still chuckling even as she scooted closer. “I know, you’re undercover, it looks very authentic.”

“I worked really hard at the accent, too.”

“It’s wonderful,” she insisted, rubbing his cheek with the back of her fingers. Now that her own excitement over the thrill of being undercover in the field had peaked she tried to remember that he still needed care. “Would you like an orange? I’ll peel it for you.”

“Okay,” Jeremy agreed, somewhat mollified. Rachel reached into a cooler for the fruit. “ _I_ thought you were gonna blow it when that guy punched me at the end.”

Rachel’s mood twisted suddenly and she stabbed viciously at the orange. “I almost did,” she agreed angrily. “I mean, honestly, who does that? A guy in a hospital bed in custody, with witnesses everywhere. Is he some kind of psycho?”

“I provoked him,” Jeremy admitted with a shrug.

“What? Why?”

“Well, he made a rude comment about you, and it upset me,” Jeremy revealed, in his tough-guy accent.

“Awww,” Rachel responded. “Here.” She fed him a slice of orange even though he was perfectly capable of doing so himself.

“And also I wanted to see what you would do,” he added around the orange slice, which just made her roll her eyes.

“Like you needed more injuries,” she chided. “Running three blocks and scaling a fence with a shattered leg? Not very smart, buster.”

“I thought maybe I would get away.”

“You’re _lucky_ they didn’t just keep shooting at you,” she pointed out severely.

“It’ll heal,” he dismissed. He looked expectantly at the rest of the orange she was holding and she handed it to him with a sigh.

They cleared the Boston city limits and her cell phone rang. “ _Well done, Dr. Ward_ ,” Supervisor Wollstonecraft allowed coolly. “ _Please put Agent Green on the phone_.”

“Thank you,” Rachel replied. “And thank you for letting me help rescue Jeremy.” She handed him the phone before the other woman could say something to crush her enthusiasm.

“Jeremy Green,” he said into the phone. “Challenge: carnation.” He must have received the correct response in return. “Tangerine, Florida,” he went on after a moment. “Probably. He may also have left some with Claire Keesey.” Another pause. “Predictable. He’d threatened Keesey and also caused his mother’s death.” And then he must have been given the order to stand down, because he kind of shook himself a little like he was loosening his muscles, and then suddenly he was Jeremy again. “Yes, Supervisor,” he added in his normal voice, and hung up the phone.

Rachel scooted back over to him. “How do you feel, tiger?” she asked with sympathy. She had no idea why his mission was to pretend to be a hardened bank robber—well, he wasn’t really pretending, he _had_ actually robbed several banks and armored cars in the last couple months—and she also didn’t really _want_ to know. Maybe it was naïve, but she trusted that Jeremy’s larger purpose was to do good, even if he had to do bad things to accomplish that. Though it had been a little disconcerting to see his mugshot in the Boston newspapers, and grainy footage of him shooting at the authorities on TV—even if she could see he was deliberately missing as many people as possible. “You want me to turn your pain meds up?”

“Maybe once we get back to the Center,” he demurred, though she could see he was uncomfortable.

“Don’t want to dull those senses yet, huh?” she agreed understandingly. “Well, close your eyes and try to relax, we’ve got a little while to go.” He sighed as though he found the possibility unlikely. He did at least close his eyes and Rachel tried to sit quietly and hold his hand without disturbing him, although the seat was uncomfortable and the ambulance seemed to bounce a great deal.

“Dr. Ward,” Jeremy said after a few minutes.

“Hmmm?”

“I’m sorry I said all those rude things to you.” He opened one eye a little to check her reaction.

Rachel smiled. “You were undercover! You couldn’t be polite to me, it would have ruined the mission,” she told him, which of course he already knew. “Besides, you didn’t really say anything that bad.”

Jeremy nodded, glad she understood. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something else, though. “You were very good undercover, too,” he finally said, leadingly.

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings somehow?” Rachel teased him lightly. “Well, I had to be tough, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense why you behaved for me. More or less.”

“You were scary,” Jeremy confirmed. “It was very authentic.”

Rachel laughed a little bit and rubbed the remaining stubble of hair on his head. “Thanks, tiger. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to Dino, I don’t really think he would act like that.


End file.
